


Ripe With His Child

by Tomstinkerbell



Category: Loki Fandom, Loki laufeyson - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Breeding, D/s, Dominant Loki, F/M, Forced Breeding Talk, Forced Pregnancy Talk, Milking Talk, NSFW, Pregnancy Kink, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5283416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomstinkerbell/pseuds/Tomstinkerbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's wife is heavily pregnant, and it turns him on something fierce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripe With His Child

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW!!
> 
> READ THE TAGS! Don't read this fic if this kind of thing doesn't do it for you. It's not everyone's cup of tea.
> 
> I added the "rape/non-con" warning because of the discussion of what some might consider forced pregnancy. I'd rather be safe than sorry.

"No, don't wake up," he whispered, climbing into bed next to me and wrapping those lovely, long, strong arms around me.

Me and my very pregnant belly.

I wasn't very far along, but when one is carrying a Frost Giant, one begins to show - quite prominently - from early on, apparently.

The Asgardian healers told me this was normal, but how could they know? No one had ever birthed a Midgardian/Frost Giant hybrid - and on Asgard, to boot - before, and I knew they were "best guessing", but, the "giant" part definitely started early. They were already planning to take the baby prior to full term - presumably before he or she split me open. Loki really should have chosen a taller, more substantial type to bear his children, instead of falling in love with me, who barely reached his shoulder in four inch heels and weighs only a little more than half of what he does.

Loki had, somewhat surprisingly, been an active participant in my prenatal care, too - aside from avidly attending every single weekly checkup - he maintained a spell cast over our unborn child that kept it from freezing me to death from the inside, which was always good, too.

He was being so funny about my pregnancy - I was getting a strong vibe that he was developing a bit of a pregnancy kink - reveling in the changes to my body and how it changed me - the both of us, really, and our relationship - so fundamentally.

He'd always been protective of me, but that was now heightened to an almost annoying degree. I knew he watched over me even when he wasn't able to be with me - which, from early on in my pregnancy - became rarer and rarer. He was almost always by my side with his arm around my waist, or holding me on his lap, or cradling me with his body in our bed, as he was now - nearly always touching me in some way, as if he could tell how I was doing by simple physical contact with me.

And he craved other, much more intimate contact on a more frequent basis than even when we'd first met, which - to my total embarrassment - was something he asked the healers about every time - whether it might be detrimental to the baby for us to make love, but they always answered that as long as I was comfortable, it was fine.

And that was a good thing, considering how often he was after me. Luckily, pregnancy hormones seemed to do the same thing to me, and I was at least as hungry for him as he was for me.

Like now.

Even though he'd done his best not to awaken me, inserting himself beneath the sheets as quietly and carefully as he could, he was too near to me, too much of a distraction for me to be able to get back to sleep with him right behind me.

With that hard, imposing length of him already instinctively seeking that which it craved, nestled, as it was, between my cheeks.

Feeling a bit impish, I wiggled my bottom against him, and was rewarded by a guttural groan, feeling his cock jump and strain as his hips flexed forward automatically.

I could hear how his teeth were clenched with the strain of holding himself back from taking me the way he wanted to as he hissed, "I'm trying to be good and let you sleep, my darling. The baby is exhausting you so - "

He wasn't wrong, but he'd already stirred my desires to a fever pitch by his mere existence. I reached back and caught the nape of his neck, pulling him towards me and kissing the breath out of him with the sure and lethal skill of familiarity, leaving him panting heavily in my ear. "I'd much rather it was you wearing me out instead . . ." I whispered, nipping his lower lip.

Another moan, another generous dollop of moisture slickening my crease, readying me for his possession.

"You are a very naughty girl," he chided, hips following my lead in direct contrast to his words. "You're just lucky that I can't spank you."

I pouted. "I don't know if lucky is the word I'd choose . . . "

A long growl from behind me as his hands came down to still hips that had already broadened with his child, and that I was rolling back into him enticingly. He tried again, bless him, to sweetly deter me from my fervent goal, worried, I knew, about my health even above that of our baby. "My dearest one, you need to rest. The baby is - "

"The baby is making me horny, and me being horny is making you horny." I reached down to remove one large, masculine hand from my swollen belly and place it on my breast, then inserted the long fingers of the other between my legs, whimpering and rubbing myself against it as it found its home. "Please don't make me beg, husband. But you know I will if you command me to."

Loki was struggling with his dominant tendencies and what he saw as my further fragility in being pregnant. It had taken me a while to bring him around at the beginning of our relationship just because I was so much smaller than he and he was terrified of hurting me - but the effort had been more than worth it - but now he tended towards cosseting and coddling me more than being as firm and stern with me as he had been - with a generous side of cosseting and coddling - all of which I had adored.

But I noticed that he had moved his hands back to the somewhat neutral territory of my tummy, so it was time for me to move my own, reaching behind me as I turned my head to kiss him deeply, finding the engorged evidence of his hunger for me and beginning to stroke, swiftly and surely, up and down the thick, stiff length of it.

I felt him shudder and growl at the same time with my efforts, and then, suddenly, I was on my knees at the end of our big bed, facing away from him in what had become one of our favorite positions, my legs spread wide around his, kneeling but standing up, leaning back against him for the support I needed to maintain this position since I was so ungainly and unbalanced, which somehow translated into submission to me, for some reason, and only served to heighten my responses to him.

I was open to him in every possible way - breasts, already very full and heavy, thrust forward enticingly, the enormous curve of my belly almost shielding my privates from him, but I knew he would allow me no such false modesty.

My body - everything about me - had long since been deeded into his care with absolutely no reservations whatsoever. I had put myself entirely into his hands, knowing that he wanted nothing but what was best for me, be that pleasure, pain . . . or pregnancy.

His lips nipped and suckled where neck met shoulder. "Lace your fingers behind my neck, wife."

My nipples swelled and throbbed as I did so, at the submissiveness of the act and that low, sultry tone, nearly cumming at the way this position forced me to arch my back even further, revealing - displaying, really - every bit of me that should be private as even my most secret folds were parted as if in anticipation of his touch and his possession.

But his hands didn’t go where I wanted them to at first. Instead, they groped and massaged my belly, even their enormous size no longer able to cover all of it at once, as he manually claimed me - and my baby - as his, as if admiring his handiwork.

"Although it heightens my lust for you when I know you want me, I fear that is not nearly the only reason why I am unable to control myself around you as well as I should, my darling love. I cannot seem to get enough of you, ripe with my child as you are. Everything about you like this calls to me to take you endlessly. If I were a more selfish husband, I would never allow you out of our bed. I would be at you constantly, as if I was trying to impregnate you again while you are already full of my child, keeping you full of me at the same time."

His words had me gasping at their power to arouse me - it was as if he was reading my mind!

"I hope you want a lot of children, because I am of a mind to keep you constantly pregnant. It seems to suit you - despite your diminutive stature and the size of the babies I will give you - you really do glow with it." His hands began to move on me and - even though he hadn't hit anywhere particularly interesting yet, I still couldn't suppress a husky groan.

I actually flinched from the extreme sensitivity I felt to everything he was doing - nearly overbalancing myself while I was at it - when a hand cupped a breast that had increased by at least three cup sizes, while the other pressed itself over the already well exposed treasures between my legs.

"Steady," he warned in a whisper, "You must remain still while I touch you, babygirl," knowing well how scolding me made me feel. "I won't have you getting hurt - especially not while you're breeding. You're much too precious to me."

He squeezed my ultra sensitive breast hard, and the both of us were surprised when a stream of milk shot out of my nipple. I could feel his hips thrust at the sight of it, could hear him moan as he did it again. "This is new - and intriguing. Did you know?"

"They've been even sorer than usual lately, felt . . . fuller. I guess that's why."

I could hear the eagerness in his voice. "This is wonderful. The baby won't be here for several more months, but you're going to need to be milked. Frequently. Almost as often as you need to be fucked.." He expressed a drop onto his fingertip, and brought it to his mouth. "Sweet and creamy, almost as tasty as your other cream," he complimented, his fingers diving into my sloppy, wetness and beginning to fuck me as he alternated from breast to breast, contracting his fingers slowly and cruelly, making my breath stutter into my lungs at the pain - and making milk shoot out of me whether I wanted it to or not.

I couldn't bear it - it felt too horribly good - and tried to writhe away from him, but he had locked my fingers together where they were and I couldn't move them, nor could I move my legs, except to spread them even wider and debase myself even further before him.

His cock twitched in my cleft from behind as his hand fondled me from the front, as if paving its way, and as soon as he moved his hand up to my clit, his cock replaced his fingers and he filled me in one swift, sure stroke from bottom to top, the broad head of him nudging my cervix as I did my best to come to grips with my submissive position and his dominant stance within - and physical occupation of - me as he swelled even further, forcing my body to comply and expand achingly around him.

And then he began to fuck me very slowly, deliberately doing everything he could to build my arousal except for moving the fingers that only very occasionally brushed over my clit, which is what would truly get me off. He loved to tease me, loved to make me cum so hard I nearly fainted - or, on occasions that had become less rare the more pregnant I became, did faint - in his arms. 

I needed him to move his fingers over that straining, throbbing pearl - even just the slightest bit would be more than enough. But he wouldn't, and I couldn't move to make him do it, not that I'd ever be able to regardless. I was caught. I would cum when he allowed it.

In fact, at one point, his hands were nowhere near my breasts or my clit, but instead on my tummy again, using his hold there to move me, and somehow that, too, was unbearably arousing.

But eventually, his fingers wandered back to begin milking me again, drenching our sheets with evidence that I had been bred by him while he drove himself into me with increasing frequency and power. 

His other hand was slower to find its former position. It caressed my lower belly, just above my mons, the taut, tense tops of my thighs, then flitted gently back and forth over my splayed lips, not quite touching my clit.

Before he did, he explored every place else there that he could reach in that area, before claiming that poor, engorged bundle with three magically slick fingertips that he set upon me finally and never let up.

As he brought me - forced me - inexorably to my climax, he murmured almost softly against the skin of my shoulder, "Yes, I shall ask the Healers to return your body to its former state as soon as it is feasible after each birth, so that I may breed you as often as I can. My desire for you flares even further than I had thought possible when you are so wonderfully rounded like this." He began to sink himself into me more fiercely each time as he continued to play with and worry my clit, and I knew he could feel just how close I was getting, because of that and because of what he was saying and how he was saying it. 

"I will ask them for something that will increase your fertility, and I will be able to keep you pregnant for as long as you are fertile. I will cherish you for the use of your body every time I release myself within you, hoping each time that my seed will find its home there and I will soon see you swollen again, just like this, with my child."

A ragged scream was torn from my throat as my body convulsed violently at his efforts, and he was so big within me that I could barely clasp myself around him, kept so open by him that my ecstasy spiked again as I felt him fucking me roughly, one arm tight around my heaving belly as he took his pleasure from me, holding me still for his invasion and making me crave it at the same time, sating me completely with that potent combination of his cock and his fingers and his silver tongue that always reduced me to jelly, any time, anywhere.

We remained locked together for a long while, each of us slowly coming down from the heights of madness. He released me and I fell forward, thankfully his arm was still around me and caught me before I face-planted on the bed, lifting me with great care up to the top of the bed that was, of course, now dry and tucking us both in under the covers.

I was very nearly already asleep, my body didn't have anywhere near the stamina it used to, and being so thoroughly claimed like that drained me as much as it pleasured me.

His arms curled around me, pulling my back to his front. "Sleep. I should have been a better husband and not awakened you to have my wicked way with you. I'm sorry."

"I'm not!" I managed to pipe up, and felt him grin against my cheek, which he then kissed. "And here I thought you meant what you'd said - all that hot as hell stuff about keeping me pregnant and breeding me and you were just kidding," I lamented, mock-regretfully

His hands, which tended to perpetually massage my belly, stilled, and his words sent a shiver through me that had me contracting involuntarily. 

His low rumbled echoed through our chamber, as well as my heart and clit and womb. "Who said I didn't mean it?"


End file.
